White Dog and the rest of the White Dog Army have a love/hate relationship with peanut butter. It is a random thing and if there are parameters they remain a mystery to me.
For years Steve has started nearly every morning with peanut butter toast with jam. Every pup (as they joined the Army) would gather around him and sit patiently to share his breakfast. Now, if he can convince any of the White Ones to take a bite, it is generally only his devoted Quinn who makes it clear he is taking the offering merely as an act of love.
Satay sauce (made with peanut butter and spices) for chicken skewers? LOVE it! Peanut butter ice cream? ditto! Peanut butter rice cakes? Not a chance.
The WDA has the same ambiguity about peanut butter dog treats. The bone cookies from a blogger friend were devoured in a single day. The peanut butter kisses cookies from the coast made great treat offerings for our canine guests over the holidays. PBBizkits from a local shop who was a sponsor for our End Cancer Walk had all of the pups digging at the trash can for the empty wrappers; fancy decorated personalized peanut butter cookies from the poshest bakery in town, not a one would touch.
The Army does not always vote as a block Sometimes some like pb; sometimes no one likes it; and other times the group would eat it right from the jar. And sometimes one starts out not liking it but upon seeing the others enjoying treats changes his/her mind so as not to be left out. Likes and dislikes also change: what one hates today may become a favorite overnight. Like I said, the rules escape me.
Today I had one of the few lunches no one was interested in begging for...you got it...peanut butter and blueberry lime jam on dark wheat. Instead of the usual post-jerky rally to snag some people chow, all five quietly laid at my feet looking dejected.
BUT tonight when Steve tore open the box of Girl Scout cookies, the frenzy almost knocked him over. The WDA bumped and pushed for every crumb and when Steve commanded "party manners" the group sat perfectly as they received the peanut butter rewards.
It is at times like these that I think of my friend, Paula's story about growing up in a big family. At dinner one child would ask as they set the table, "mom is there mustard in this potato salad?" Her mother knowing the child did not like mustard would reply, "of course not, dear." As the meal was being served another child who liked mustard would ask the same question. "Honey, you know I would NEVER leave out your favorite ingredient," was the reply. Everyone ate the salad thinking it was just perfect.
So next time one of the WDA asks, "Is there peanut butter in this?" I will smile serenely and say, "Do you WANT there to be peanut butter in it?"